A Single Comfortable Lie
by Utenakun
Summary: Ever since that day, Glinda’s had times when she doesn’t act the way her adoring public thinks. 1s.


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Title: A Single Comfortable Lie

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Author: Utenakun

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Book/Musical: Wicked

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Summary: Ever since that day, Glinda's had moments where she doesn't act the way her adoring public thinks. 

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Rating: G

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Disclaimer: Like Maguire, I am paying homage to a story I truly loved. Unlike him, I haven't a legal ownership leg to stand on.

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Notes: This is more based on the Broadway musical Wicked (and the book by Gregory Maguire), than The Wizard of Oz. Yes, Wicked is 'just' a retelling, but I assume knowledge of Glinda and Elphaba's history that you wouldn't know from only reading L. Frank Baum.

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"It just shows when you're wicked

You're left only

On your own…"

~Glinda, "No One Mourns the Wicked"

The mirror did not lie to her in the common, insidious ways it lies to most women. Facing it head-on, she did not see the immaculate complexion reserved for youth or the gorgeous golden curls she had been so famous for as a girl. But neither did she see fat that did not cling to her graceful figure, or wrinkles beyond the ones carved by beaming smiles. No; Glinda's mirror said, honestly, that while she could not compare to the beauty she'd had in her days at school, she had aged well. Her hair, now cut short to allow the frantic-paced lifestyle she'd lived since the Wizard's departure, was faded through long years but still curled becomingly. Her face still smiled as readily as it ever had, and the smiles were still as joyous.

But she was slowing down, of course, and citizens now nodded understandingly when they heard that Glinda the Good could not see them quite yet, could they possibly wait half an hour? Though she was famous for her accessibility (among a great many other things), it was only to be expected that after years of tireless service, the dear would slow down a little. So she was beginning to find it necessary, when the problems presented simply swamped her, to retreat to her bedroom for just a little while.

What was hardest, she thought as she sat back in a large armchair and closed her eyes, was dealing with all this by herself. Glinda had always been social, and even now loved her real friends-- the ones not with her through simpleminded adoration-- with all her heart. But she had no partner, in her guardianship of Oz, only subordinates. She guessed that was to be expected: the name of Glinda the Good, even when she had been relatively young, had always been one of extreme reverence. Hardly anyone could be asked to stand beside such an august figure and act as her equal. But even so, perhaps she ought to start looking for someone to succeed her. By now, at least, she knew what to look for, didn't she? Frowning a little, Glinda considered the thought.

Magical power, Lurline knew, was hardly a problem. One needed only to sound out the strange syllables in the Grimmerie… but having the discretion and discipline to know _when_ and when _not_ to cast a spell, that was paramount-- and rare. Intelligence and the iron will to keep Oz whole despite whatever threat an enemy might pose, though she hoped with all her heart no one would face a political machine as insidious as the Wizard's ever again. Compassion for every unfortunate in Oz that would keep her successor from abusing the position. Who could she ask all this of-- except the face always in her memory?

Glinda winced a little at the thought that still stabbed, no matter how many times she had and would recall her friend. A fearless voice in the classroom, denouncing the popular supremacist stance of the time, a bold manner honed through a lifetime of being the center of a thousand accusing eyes. A heart as fragile as any girl's, a brave front Glinda had only understood after months of loathing her green-skinned roommate.

And the way she liked to remember Elphaba best, standing there straight-backed and trembling with excitement, light streaming all around her from the window at her back. _Come with me, Glinda… we can do this together._ Anything was possible, in those days…

Glinda's sharp inhale broke the silence of the room, then her voice, murmuring softly, "You were right. If… if I could only tell you what's been done. What I've managed, in these years. But… what we _could_ have done, if I'd listened to you, I can't imagine…" She rose restlessly and paced the room, "Together, we could have made Oz a paradise. Alone-- alone, it has been so _hard_, trying and never getting anywhere, never with anyone to turn to--" here she stopped short, stare captured by the mirror.

Yes; Glinda's mirror was tame under her gaze most of the time, nearly all the time, showing her neither the views of yesteryear nor the horrified projections of a woman frightened to lose her looks. But sometimes it did indeed trick her. Sometimes all she could see were the might-have-beens of a time that had never happened, when her friend stood beside her instead of lurking in the shadows. And sometimes… sometimes the face reflected _did_ differ from reality, sometimes it became Elphaba's on that last awful day. _You can do everything I could not,_ the Witch's voice whispered, as it had so many times as Glinda stood alone in her room.

"Did I, Elphie? I've made peace between the Munchkinlanders and Quadlings, repealed the Animal Banns, helped a thousand thousand citizens… but was it really enough? So many Animals lived out their lives on farms, dumb in their misery and exploitation. The land of the Quadlings is nothing like it used to be, picked clean of anything worth taking and wanted only by those who consider it their ancient home. I feel like I've given them nothing, Elphie. Nothing to make up for the persecution they faced." Glinda was not in the least insane-- she knew she was speaking to one long dead. Moreover, she was only speaking to a memory, a memory of a single day, a moment in that day. But isn't there a little magic, in a mirror? Just enough to have given her this contact with her best friend?

Elphaba's face-- tear-streaked with the news of Fiyero's death, set grimly against the witch hunters screaming for her blood-- somehow managed to soften itself into the smile she sometimes let Glinda see. _You misunderstand, sweet. I didn't ask you to work miracles-- I wanted you to make Oz better, a healthier place for everyone to live, instead of just those who were Wizard-approved normal. You can't say you haven't done that._

Slowly, Glinda's face softened as well, as she let her anguish drain away. She returned the smile, her voice lowering to a whisper as Elphaba's image faded away in her mind's eye. "Do you remember when we first met, at Shiz? You were so… prickly. Really, that was the only word for you. And I was such an airhead." She shook her head a little, grinning. "So vain and empty I couldn't see past my wardrobe, past your skin. It took forever for us to become friends, didn't it? I have my own blindness to thank for that.

"Oh, Elphie. If you could only see… how you changed everything ever afterwards."

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"And now whatever way our stories end,

I know you have re-written mine

By being my friend…

I do believe I have been changed for the better,

And because I knew you

I have been changed for good."

~Elphaba and Glinda, "For Good"


End file.
